


Warden: The True Tale of the Warden

by MigrantMayhem



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Disorganized clutter, F/M, Gen, Grief, Interviews, Retelling, collection of memories, just drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MigrantMayhem/pseuds/MigrantMayhem
Summary: “Dear Varric Tethras,I have read many of your works in between my assignments and have found them to be quite thrilling. You are certainly an excellent wordsmith, and one of the most authentic writers I’ve ever read. The one story that sticks out in my mind is, of course, The Tale of the Champion, which is what prompted me to write this letter.”“My name is Zevran Arainai, and I am one of the few that followed the Hero of Ferelden into battle.”“I ask, if you can find the time, that you perhaps conduct interviews with her other remaining companions. If there is to be a Tale of the Warden, I wish it to be an accurate one."___I have a lot of emotions regarding my warden so I decided to write them down
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Tabris, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	1. An Interesting Proposal

Varric was in the middle of his draft of the actual third installment of the  _ Hard in Hightown  _ series when the spymaster came down from her tower.

“We received a letter for you,” Leliana said simply in her masked Orlesian accent, “Fan mail, I would assume.”

He gave a laugh, not even looking up, “Probably. Seems like they know how to find me in even the most remote places.”

“So it seems,” She said as she handed the letter to him.

“Thanks, Leliana.”

“It is no problem.”

He opened the letter, listening to Leliana’s footsteps fade out on the strong stone of the Skyhold cobbles, reading the master penmanship.

_ “Dear Varric Tethras, _

_ I have read many of your works in between my assignments and have found them to be quite thrilling. You are certainly an excellent wordsmith, and one of the most authentic writers I’ve ever read. The one story that sticks out in my mind is, of course,  _ The Tale of the Champion _ , which is what prompted me to write this letter.” _

_ “My name is Zevran Arainai, and I am one of the few that followed the Hero of Ferelden into battle.” _

_ “I ask, if you can find the time, that you perhaps conduct interviews with her other remaining companions. If there is to be a  _ Tale of the Warden _ , I wish it to be an accurate one. For now, I will supply you a summary of my knowledge of her, if only to pique your interest, and a list of names of the other companions so that you may find them.” _

_ “Her name was Naiyan Tabris, which the fact that in ten years people have already forgotten it shocks and appalls me. Her name was Naiyan Tabris, and she was a gem amongst the ash and blood of the Blight.” _

_ “She was not a do-gooder, nor was as Godly as the rumors like to say. Naiyan was very…  _ mortal _ , for lack of a better term. She was angry, she was reckless, and she was chaotic. This, of course, is why I liked her the best-- what can I say, women with a temper are always the most fun in bed!-- but it did lead to many problems when she was bearing the weight of the world-- quite literally-- on her shoulders.” _

_ “Many people seem to have forgotten that the Alienage elf who slaughtered 30 people in the Arl of Denerim’s own home-- including his son and son’s two friends-- and the Warden who later saved not only Denerim, but the entirety of the world, are one in the same. Yes, it was our dear, sweet Naiyan who made the Capitol run red with bureaucratic blood all those years ago to prove a point, and that was the reason she got conscripted into the Wardens in the first place. I always told her she would have made a fine assassin, and even taught her some of my tricks. We talked about going to Antiva together… but the time has passed.” _

_ “I cannot tell you the number of frightful looks she got on her quest-- a redheaded city elf with a temper AND a fistful of Warden treaties is exactly what no one wanted on their doorstep. She was very short with many of the people we met. For it seems that when we needed aid most, everyone else did, and so we were sent on our fair share of errand running in order to get the aid we needed. There were numerous occasions when someone would insult Naiyan right before requesting aid, as if they hadn’t realized who she was. She was very keen on that front, and wouldn’t let these comments go easily. I believe that the power may have gotten to her head-- no longer did she have to smile in the face of the humans that belittled her for her race or complexion, but she could speak up, speak out, stick up for those who couldn’t. Naiyan taught many an arrogant noble humility, I believe.” _

_ “Alas, I could go on for pages on the lovely flower that was the Warden, but the hour is late and my candle is burning low. So I leave you with a list of her companions, to inquire further. I am completely willing to answer any questions you have left, and look forward to further letters from you.” _

_ “I do hope you’ll consider writing the book, for I do not believe anyone could do it justice like you would. She would have wanted people to know how she really was instead of these fanciful, glorifying stories.” _

_ “Signed, _

_ Z.A.” _

Below the signature was a list of names.

_ “Alistair Theirin (indeed, the king of Ferelden) _

_ Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds (although I would doubt if she goes by that name anymore. Sneaky thing, look for hair dark as night and eyes that glow gold. A condescending attitude, as well.) _

_ Leliana, Lay Sister, Imperial Bard, Left Hand of the Divine, and your Spymaster _

_ Sten (or, perhaps he is Arishok now? It would be impossible to find him, as his title changes, just look for an important Qunari who has no horns) _

_ Wynne (A circle mage from Ferelden, but I fear she may have passed by now. She was very old, but she was a vital asset to our victory) _

_ Oghren, a drunk old dwarf (look for a vomit-covered red beard) _

_ Shale (A stone golem. I’m not joking. She’s an actual stone golem.)” _

Varric’s eyes twinkled, and a grin formed on his face. This… this would be a fun pet project.


	2. Meeting the Warden -- Leliana

“So,” Varric started gently, trying to probe the spymaster, “How did you first meet Tabris?”

Liliana shot him a wide-eyed look, rare for the spymaster, before speaking. “You would have me discuss the Warden? Now?” She eyed him carefully.

“That letter you gave me? That was from your old friend, Zevran Arainai. He’s asked me to try and write as accurate a biography of the Warden as I can, to honor her memory.”

“He did?” She paused, “Of course he did. Who else would… well. You wanted to know how we met?” A small smile had played on her face for a second, before it disappeared.

“Yes. You and Tabris.”

She nodded. “It was in Lothering. She and her companions had just arrived from Ostagar with many of the refugees, but you could tell they weren’t refugees. Everyone else was so scared, was hurting. Naiyan… no. She had a look in her eyes. She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t grieving. She wasn’t scared. She was… she was just angry. She had a look about her like she wanted to hurt people. Her hands were twitching around her blade.”

“Did she?”

“Of course, but not unprovoked. She walked into the inn in Lothering, looking for supplies, when some of Loghain's men, who were already a little tipsy and were causing trouble, approached her. It was hard for her to pass off that she wasn’t the infamous Warden who survived Ostagar. She not only was an elf with darker complexion and a kinky mane of red hair, but she had her face plastered around Denerim after the murder of the Arl’s son. They accused her of being the warden, and she tried once to send them away, but they pressed just a little bit, and all that anger came… rushing out of her. I remember seeing her dark eyes snap up to theirs, and something in her just… took over. She dared them to touch her, to see what happened. They did. She cut off his hand in one clean, fluid motion.”

“...Oh. Wow.”

Leliana sighed. “She was a scary woman. She was very short with everyone and calloused in the beginning. She didn’t trust anyone.”

“So it seems…”

“I had stopped her right before she killed the first man. I was a little fearful she would kill me, instead, but she stayed her hand. She snapped at me, but I appealed to her reason. She was very much like a wild, wounded animal then. I suppose I would be, too, had I just been taken away from everything I had known. She let the men go, but sent them with a rather violent threat to Loghain.”

“What was it?”

Leliana stared at him for a moment, before grinning. “Oh, no. I couldn’t repeat it. She was very…  _ colorful  _ in her vocabulary.”

“She sounds like she was a character to be around.”

“Oh… that she was. That she was.”


	3. Meeting the Warden -- Alistair

He sat across from the king, who was leaned back, very relaxed. As he should be-- this was his court.

“Thank you for letting me interview you, your majesty.”

“Oh, no. Thank you. It’s good to hear somebody is doing well to honor Naiyan’s memory.”

He smiled. “From what I’ve heard about her, I’d be doing the public a great disservice by not recording her actual adventures.”

Alistair Theirin smiled in turn, chuckling a little, “Indeed. She was quite the wild child. A little prickly, but she became one of my best friends…” His face fell a little, staring off, “It’s a shame she had to be taken from us so soon…”

Varric nodded solemnly. “May she rest in peace.”

There was a moment of silence before Varric spoke up again.

“So tell me, how did you and Naiyan meet?”

Alistair took a breath, eyes staring through the walls behind Varric, as he recalled.

“I met Naiyan at Ostagar. In fact, I had just gotten out of an argument with a particularly rude mage. I remember I turned to her and said, ‘Ah, the one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.’ I remember that because I felt it was rather clever, and was probably what was going to be engraved in my tombstone if that mage did in fact shoot me while my back was turned. I think the first thing I noticed about Naiyan was her hair-- which stood a good finger-length up from her head in a fiery mane of orange-red curls. The next had to be the formal attire she wore-- it was jeweled and bedazzled like wedding clothes, but it was a dirty coppery brown color. And then, I realized with a bit of panic, that it  _ wasn’t  _ a coppery brown color, that was just  _ blood _ . I remember my eyes flying to her face in shock when I noticed she was an elf, who had an expression like she was going to behead the next man who looked at her wrong. But instead of killing me on the spot, she actually cracked a smile-- a sorrowful kind of smile. She shook her head, and said ‘Yeah, tell me about it.’”

“I was going to supervise the Warden recruits to see which would make good Warden material. Naiyan was notably the most determined out of three recruits. It wasn’t because she had the least to lose, but I think it was just because she refused to accept that it was even a possibility that she could die at the hands of darkspawn. I think that’s what made Naiyan such a leader. She was… she was just so confident, you know? She wouldn’t back down from anything. In fact, I think most of us followed her in fear of being left behind. I think that’s why we all… well. I think that’s why we all miss her so much.”

Varric swallowed, finishing his notes. “Indeed. I… I know how that feels.”

Alistair lifted his cup of wine, “To good friends.”

Varric swiftly followed suit. “To good friends.”


	4. Meeting the Warden -- Morrigan

“So, you are Morrigan, then?”

“That is my name. That is, indeed, what the Inquisitor introduced me as. So yes, I am, indeed, Morrigan.”

Varric nodded. “How did you meet Naiyan?”

The witch’s head twitched, staring through him like a hawk would a mouse. Varric stared across the garden, not letting his unease tighten in his shoulders.

“Who told you I travelled with the Warden? Was it Leliana? No, it couldn’t be. Who, then?” Her voice was hushed, as though it was a scandal.

“A little crow told me. I want to write an accurate biography of the Warden.”

She studied him a little longer before relaxing. “I see. So you would wish to know my experiences with the Warden, in an attempt to capture who she really, truly was, instead of this absurd, childish misconception that she was somehow larger than life?”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

There was a silent moment. “Good,” She said, “Finally someone comes to squash the fanciful tales of griffins and selflessness. It’s not at all who Naiyan was.”

Morrigan seemed to relax, just a touch. She was still stiff as a board, but it was a start.

“So, when did you two first meet?”

“I found her picking around in untouched ruins in the Wilds before she was a warden, leading a herd of imbeciles through darkspawn-infested territory. One of which was Alistair.”

“I see. And her first impression?”

“I could see she was intelligent. She was intelligent in that she was untrusting of me, but not in the same way that her companions were. They were distrustful because I was a woman in the wilds, carrying a staff. She was distrustful because I was simply there. She did not trust her companions, either. She was simply suspicious, and that, I believe, is the best way to be. She was very to the point, and blunt, and had no time for games, at least in the beginning. She wished to gather what it was she came for and get out, and be past these silly challenges. I respected her from the start.”

“I see. I assume that is quite a feat?”

“Tis true, there are not many people I find tolerable, let alone respect. Naiyan… it was an honor to travel with her.”


	5. Meeting the Warden -- Zevran

_ “I met the warden on a long, winding backroad, in the middle of an ambush. That is, an ambush set up by myself. Indeed, I was hired to kill her and Alistair. Imagine where we would be had I succeeded?” _

Varric raised a brow. Zevran was a cheeky bastard, that much is true.

_ “My people made formidable foes, certainly. She had been travelling with Sven, Morrigan and her Mabari she affectionately named ‘Shitface'-- indeed, she was a classy woman. While the numbers were in our favor, something like 15 to 4, by the end of it it was down to 2 to 1. It was about 10 to 2 when I got a proper look at the Warden. Naiyan had kept herself mostly covered, it was almost impossible to recognize her from afar. The closer she came, the more details I could see.” _

_ “A coiled lock of red, wiry hair that jutted out from under her helmet. The dark freckles that danced against her wheat brown skin. Those dark eyes, full of unkempt rage and malice glittered. I was struck first by her prowess in battle; no formal training which made her unpredictable, she fought like an animal, no move or maneuver was off limits. She ripped the ear off if the last of my archers with her teeth, headbutted him unconscious, and then turned her steely gaze on me.” _

_ “She stormed towards me, and I, for the first time in my long career as an assassin, hesitated. She threw herself at me, steel clanging as we fought in close quarters. She managed to knock the weapons from my hand and press me flush to the cart I had been using as cover. I distinctly remember her creativity-- she braced her elbow on my throat and used my shoulder to steady her crossbow, killing the archer on the other ridge after about three bolts. I figured she would take the crossbow and just shoot me with it, but she instead opted to bash my head with the back of the crossbow, rendering me unconscious. And here I am today.” _

_ “I bartered my life for information and services, and Naiyan actually went with it. I didn’t expect her to-- any other woman with that kind of fire in her blood would have killed me on the spot. I owe her my life.” _


	6. Tabris' Secret

“Did you know that Naiyan was illiterate?” Morrigan mused with what one could assume was nostalgia, were the idea that such a woman could be _nostalgic,_ let alone feel fondness towards anything, not so frightening a thought.

“Wait, she was?” Varric asked, startled. Illiteracy was one of Varric’s personal nightmares. It had gone by the wayside in most of the world, with only a few exceptions being amongst the slave labor in Tevinter. But even in the worst alienage, about a half to three-quarters of elves could read.

Morrigan nodded. “Indeed. I was surprised myself, that I, who grew up without any human contact was more proficient at such a simple skill.”

“How did you learn this? That she couldn’t read?” He asked, still a little doubtful.

The Witch of the Wild’s golden gaze focused on something far beyond them as she spoke.

“Naiyan was a vast collector of knowledge, which is something that had always fascinated me. She would pick up scraps of paper, half-destroyed books, letters of all varieties, even stone tablets and scrolls in different languages. I had thought that she was a scholar of some sort, which did not match her personality, but there she would sit, scouring over these random texts by firelight, squinting, rereading, over and over until she would sleep.”

“Eventually she began coming over to my isolated camp with her scrolls and books and things and would ask me to go over them. This was after her journey through the circle of magi, so she very cleverly hid it under the guise of understanding the magical jargon used. I… was deceived by this trick until she brought a letter from one lover to another to me that was… very… explicit.”

Varric had to choke back a chortle, while Morrigan’s pale features burned at the memory.

“Indeed, I got about a third of the way through the letter before I realized there was nothing in there she couldn’t have deciphered , and I hastily assumed it was a practical joke she and Alistair decided to pull on me. When I confronted her about it, she was very confused… and then mortified. It was then that I realized that there was some form of misunderstanding between her mind and the words on the page.”

“I suppose, in hindsight, everything makes much more sense. Why she would collect scraps of anything with writing on it, ‘reading’ texts in languages that were obviously very old and dead, and why she would ask me to go over what the pages were saying while reading over my shoulder…” Her voice took on a soft, gentle, melancholy tone, “...The poor girl was trying to teach herself.”

Varric’s heart ached suddenly. There have never been many heroes in modern history who came from a poor background. Everyone was either educated enough to see flaws in a system, wealthy enough to fix them or they have enough prestige to impact their environment. Alistair Theirin-- a royal bastard son who studied in a chantry. Zevran Arainai-- famous assassin, trained by the Crows. Leliana was an Imperial Bard before returning to Ferelden and stopping the Blight. Hell, even in Varric’s own circle, Hawke was educated and of a noble family. The only one out of their party who couldn't read was Fenris, which he had learned only from Hawke recently. The Inquisitor herself was very well-educated with Dalish knowledge, even, and she knew how to read, write and speak in at least 3 languages on top of Dalish Elvhen. 

This idea that Warden Tabris, the famous Hero of Ferelden, was just some young, reckless, poor _kid_ that ended up getting the weight of the world thrown on her shoulders-- and _carried_ it, through everything-- and sacrificed herself to the good of everything…

He swallowed thickly, rubbing his eyes.

Damn. That was a thought that hurt.


	7. Beaurocratic Blood

“Naiyan was the first to find out I was a royal bastard in the party, which is a scary thought,” Alistair said, nostalgically. “It was mostly because I had to tell her-- we were about to walk into Redcliffe, and she shouldn’t be surprised when people started mentioning it. I didn’t know what she would do.”

“What was so scary about that?” Varric replied.

“Naiyan was very… well, she had one hell of a temper. At first I thought she just had a thing against humans, but over time I realized it was just  _ noble  _ humans, or anyone wrapped up in bureaucracy. I didn’t follow her in Orzammar, but from the stories Zevran told me, she was very close to ripping the beard right off Harrowmont’s chin. Several times. When I had finally weaseled into her good graces… Maker, the nightmares I had about what she would do to me after finding out  _ I  _ was nobility were worse than any nightmare I’d had about darkspawn.”

“Really? She must of been ferocious if she scared you more than darkspawn.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me. It didn’t help I got to watch her decapitate, disembowel, and use many other methods of butchery on darkspawn all day. At that point I knew what she could do.”

Varric nodded, making a note. “Well, how did she react?”

“Honestly the only thing that really ended up troubling her was the idea that I’m an heir to the throne. She didn’t worry about it too much until we cured Arl Eamon and he put forward as the most viable candidate for an heir. She was worried, then. She couldn’t afford to take me out of the fighting but she watched me like a hawk. I hadn’t thought that she would be a mother hen, but there she was.”

“It was after we returned from the Temple of Sacred Ashes and made camp in the deserted Haven that she asked me about it. I explained why I hid it, and expected her to react explosively to my honesty, but instead she told me, and I’ll never forget this, she said: “You’re not like them. You  _ get  _ it. You may have noble blood, but you’re not  _ noble _ . That’s why, if it comes down to it, you’d probably be the best to take the throne.”

Varric looked at Ferelden’s king, his eyes down and misty in memory.

“She hadn’t an idea how politics work, but here I am. And, humbly, I don’t seem to be doing such a bad job.”

“Cheers to that, your highness.”


	8. Weight of the World

_ “People speak of how much of an ingenious mediator Naiyan was-- that couldn’t be  _ _ less _ _ true. While it would be an injustice to say that Naiyan was apathetic to the whole of the situation, she was rather mercenary during her decision making process. She spoke in bitter tongues to diplomats and nobles, and hardly gave them an inch, if she could avoid it. She kept her own interests above everything else-- and she later disclosed to me that those interests were, in fact, our lives.” _

_ “History does not go into much detail about our dealings with the Rajmael clan. The short story is their keeper had put a curse on the humans that killed his children, and that curse turned them into werewolves. Only problem was the werewolves were now infecting his own people. So, as you can imagine, when we requested aid, we were told to go slay the werewolves and bring back the heart of their leader so the keeper could cure the curse. In the cavernous ruins of the werewolf lair we fought one of the most arduous battles of our lives. Around every corner we were ambushed by werewolves, traps, or the restless undead. We had all been severely injured at the time-- I remember I had a particularly nasty cut on my forehead, the blood from it running right over my eye and blinding me for half of the battle. Naiyan, I believe, had fractured her arm-- Wynne was able to repair it enough to fight, but she appeared to be in pain through every motion. By the time we got to the heart of the ruin, the werewolves met us with a parley.” _

_ “I could see every fiber of Naiyan’s body tremble with the urge to tear the werewolf before her apart, and she spoke only through her clenched teeth. I noticed that before she spoke, she spared a glance to the rest of us-- wounded, limping, we were mostly afraid Wynne had broken a hip-- before she agreed to the parley.” _

_ “When the leader of the werewolves-- a forest spirit, it appeared-- explained that the cause of the werewolf curse was the keeper himself, we were sent to go get him, to attempt to reason with him. We made our way back to the entrance of the ruin and found the dastardly keeper smugly waiting for us.” _

_ “This part always stuck out in my mind-- it was very funny in retrospect. The keeper had opened his mouth to say something wise, and Naiyan-- without hesitation, without even letting him speak-- rushed him, grabbed him by the collars of his robe and drove him into one of the ruin’s pillars. The look on his face was absolutely priceless-- open-mouthed, eyes wide, fumbling for his staff. Naiyan yelled in his face with an anger that would make a berserker's rage look like a toddler’s tantrum. He had tried very hard to speak with dignity, but Naiyan wouldn’t let him get a word in. When she was finished with her speech, she all but shoved him down the stairs to speak with the werewolves. He had asked, ridiculously, ‘If they attempt to attack me, will you protect me?’” _

_ “Naiyan responded with a sharp, bitter, ‘I’m not doing shit for you! You dug this grave-- now lie in it!’” _

_ “Amazingly, after a well-deserved thrashing, the keeper agreed to end the curse, forfeiting his own life and the life of the forest spirit. All the werewolves turned back into humans, as did any infected elves. Everyone rejoiced-- for the casualties were kept to a minimum. Naiyan, however, admitted to me that she had nightmares about those horrid ruins. It was one of the first times she realized she was responsible for people’s lives.” _


End file.
